


sneaky lemonade

by glissandos



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Strangers to Lovers, au - summer, just lazy summer vibes, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glissandos/pseuds/glissandos
Summary: Jisung is the cute boy down the street selling lemonade.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 22
Kudos: 264





	sneaky lemonade

One sweltering summer day, Minho meets a dog, also meets a cute boy because of the dog, and receives a cup of the cute boy’s lemonade in exchange for returning the dog.

Here’s how it starts, though: 

A dog walks into his garage. It’s one of those days at the end of summer when the heat never seems to let up. Even before noon it’s boiling hot, and sweat is dripping off Minho’s back in rivulets as he practices a dance routine in his garage, where his parents won’t yell at him for blasting music and stomping all over the floor. The main garage door is drawn up and he’s set up a fan to circulate some air through the space as he practices. 

This dog takes the liberty to stride right in—a small, fluffy, black-and-white thing with even fluffier fur shooting in errant tufts out of its ears. Minho wants to kindly chase it back out but it looks up to give Minho’s shorts a hesitant sniff, and he sees that underneath layers of long fur upon fur the dog has a collar and probably belongs to someone in the area. 

So begins the short interlude from dancing. Personally, Minho’s more of a cat person—owns three cats actually, and is glad none of them are traipsing about the garage now or that would be quite the howling ruckus. He beckons with what he hopes is a friendly gesture for the dog to come closer, and gives it a soft pat on its head. 

“Do you think you could lead me back to your owner?” Minho asks. The dog tilts its head questioningly. A moment of silence passes between boy and dog before the dog sticks out its tongue, panting in the heat, and wags its tail cheerfully. However, the dog doesn’t offer words or even a bark in response. Well. It was worth a shot. 

Minho gently scoops the dog up in his arms when it doesn’t protest and ducks out through the half-open garage door. He steps down the driveway onto the sidewalk and scours the area, doing a full three-sixty-degree turn. Looks for places he’d come from if he were a dog, like an unlocked gate or an open door. Looks for absentminded owners standing outside, watering the lawn or out for a walk on their phone. Looks for the most blatant answer in the form of a panicked dog-owner trying to find their pet. 

The shouting he hears probably falls closest to the third option. 

“Kkami! Kkami!” The loud voice gets closer and closer and Minho turns slightly and sees a boy running towards him up the street. 

The boy comes to a wheezing stop in front of him, leaning over for a moment to catch his breath. When he looks back up, Minho freezes. The boy is _cute_ , in a full-cheeks round-eyes fluffy-hair kind of way. Except for Chan, Minho didn’t know of any other boys his age that lived on this block, let alone a _cute_ one. 

“Dude! Thank you so much! Oh my god, Hyunjin would’ve killed me if I lost his dog, thank you for finding him!” the boy extracts the dog—Kkami—from Minho’s arms and offers him a blindingly wide and grateful smile. 

“Ah, no problem,” Minho replies. There. His mouth does work, after all. “Although it seems the dog found me instead,” he says, smiling back. “You’re lucky my door was open and he wandered in.”

The boy waves his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Say, since you helped prevent me from losing my friend’s dog, would you like a cup of lemonade?”

“Uhhhh,” says Minho. Not exactly what he expected the boy to follow up with, but okay.

“I think you could do with a cup of ice-cold lemonade. And I’ll give it to you for free as a thank you,” the boy pushes on confidently, and his gaze darts up and down Minho before he averts it. There are the faintest markings of a less-confident flush on his cheeks, either due to the heat or… something else, like Minho himself, he surmises, much to his satisfaction. See, the boy might be cute but Minho’s also aware of his own looks, so… this’ll be fun.

After all, he is sweating profusely from all his dancing. And an offer like this, especially coming out of this boy’s mouth, is not one Minho would turn down. 

“Sure,” Minho says, and the boy’s mouth splits into another bright grin. 

“Anyway, I’m Han Jisung,” the boy says as they start down the street. “My friend Hyunjin went on vacation with his parents for the summer, so that’s why I’m looking after his dog. I’m also running a lemonade stand in front of the house because the previous owner apparently planted like three lemon trees and we have so many lemons with nowhere to use them. So, lemonade,” Jisung explains, filling the air with chatter. 

“Huh.” Minho says for lack of a better reply, because he’s not used to strangers throwing out massive blurbs during their first meetings. “I’m Minho,” he quickly scrambles to add. “Also, you just left your lemonade stand unmanned. Someone might steal all the lemonade,” he points out.

As Minho says this, Jisung’s eyes get wider and wider until he exclaims “Oh shoot!” and takes off back down the street where he came from, this time with a disgruntled ball of fluff in his arm. Minho lets a funny noise of laughter come out of his mouth and follows, but at a much lazier pace. He’s not going to sweat even more by running now, he’ll take his own leisurely time if he can. 

Minho finally ends up at the lemonade stand after another minute and a left turn. Jisung’s sat in a plastic folding chair, feet propped up on an equally plastic folding table in front of him, smiling casually as if he hadn’t just almost lost a dog and then ungracefully sprinted back home. There’s a tree beside the stand that offers some semblance of shade, and said dog is now sat besides Jisung’s chair in that shade, excitedly wagging its tail when Minho comes into view. 

“Sup,” Jisung says in the most ridiculously casual way possible, except his shoulders start shaking with concealed amusement and one of his feet twitches against the table and the table trembles and an expression of panic passes over his face as the pitchers of lemonade and stacks of cups shake with it. 

Minho laughs as Jisung’s face turns just a little more pink. “So much for that,” Jisung says, lowering his legs and pouring Minho a brimming cup. There’s a sign hanging over the front end of the table that reads “FRESH COLD LEMONADE, $1.00” written in cartoonish bold sharpie. 

The ice jostles against the sides of the large paper cup as Jisung hands it over. Minho takes a sip. And it is really cold, and refreshing too. Slightly sour, but Minho prefers that to a cup overflowing with artificially sweet sugar. 

“So—aren’t you getting a bit old to run a lemonade stand?” Minho asks, taking more sips from his cup and savoring the way the cool liquid runs down his throat. Jisung stares, almost unabashedly, if not for the way that his ears are starting to run a bit red now too. Minho’s not blind. 

“It’s never too old to do anything,” Jisung says sagely. “But probably, yeah. I go to the high school a few streets down, and you?” Minho hums an affirmation, and Jisung continues. “I’m not really trying to make money either. We just have too many lemons. As I said, the previous family really liked them, for some reason.” 

Minho chuckles. “In any case, this is some good lemonade. Thanks,” he says. And then because he can’t help it: “Just a bit sour, but you were kind enough to give me a cup for free. So I guess your sweetness makes up for it.” He shoots Jisung a wink.

Jisung’s pupils are blown wide again. “No, thank _you_ for helping with Kkami,” he stammers, and Minho can confirm that Jisung’s cheeks are definitely no longer red from the heat alone. “I just figured I’d give you some, since you looked hot—wait not like that!—the sweat—I mean—yes but also that’s not what I meant! Darn, it’s all Kkami’s fault,” Jisung says, trying to cover up his flustered jumble of words. Minho snickers, but he finds it pretty cute. 

“Sure,” he says, giving Jisung a pointed, knowing look. “But if not for Kkami then who knows when I’d get to meet you, right?” He leans over the table to ruffle Jisung’s hair, and it is definitely as soft as it appears. Unfortunately, Jisung’s also been a victim of the unavoidable heat, and when Minho removes his fingertips they’re damp with sweat. “Eugh,” Minho grimaces, making the exaggerated motion of wiping his hand on his shorts. 

“Your fault,” Jisung replies, cheeks still flushed and hair now unruly but he laughs smugly at Minho. The sight is very, very tempting. For a kiss or two… or three, perhaps. But Minho reminds himself that they’ve quite literally just met. 

“Are you gonna be here again tomorrow?” Minho asks, hopefully. 

Jisung raises an eyebrow. Bends down to lift up just one of the many teeming baskets of lemons that’s sat on the ground. “How else am I supposed to get rid of all of these lemons?” 

Minho grins. “Good point. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

Jisung grins back, pleased, as Minho walks off. 

\---

_Tomorrow_ turns out to be impossibly hotter, so Minho shoves a few quarters from his pocket and takes another break (this time, planned) from dancing. 

This time Jisung has Kkami in his lap as he pets him absently while watching something on his phone. When he hears footsteps approaching, Jisung hastily puts his phone down and looks up with a friendly tight-lipped smile on his face. That smile quickly breaks into a cheeky grin when he sees who it is. 

“Hey,” Jisung says. Kkami’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and his tail starts wagging at the sight of Minho, whom the dog has seemed to take a liking to.

“Sup,” Minho grins lazily, imitating Jisung from yesterday as much as he can. Jisung winces, but gives a good-natured laugh anyway. 

“I’m here to help you get rid of some lemons. One cup please,” Minho tells him. He drops four quarters in the tray even though he knows Jisung would probably give it to him for free anyway. He likes to keep his conscience clean, and he also likes supporting the efforts of one very cute Han Jisung. 

“Of course. Would you like some extra sugar?” Jisung asks, placing Kkami down on the ground as he stands up to pour Minho a cup.

“Okay, just because I said the lemonade was a little sour didn’t mean I didn’t like it that way. So no. Besides—” Minho cuts off when he sees Jisung looking at him expectantly. 

_Your sweetness makes up for it._ Minho remembers his own words from yesterday; for all his shameless flirting, the cringe that comes with it means the memories stick with him. With a quick scan of the table, he also notes that there’s no extra sugar lying around. 

_Ah,_ Minho thinks, and his mouth runs dry. 

Jisung’s smile has turned coy as he leans forward over the table. Closer and closer, until he’s right up in Minho’s face. Minho’s cheeks must be on fire—they probably mirror Jisung’s own from yesterday. Minho thinks he doesn't mind, though.

Then, just as Minho thinks Jisung is going to close the remaining distance, he feels something cool being pressed into his hands. 

“Your cup of lemonade. And as you requested—without any extra sugar,” Jisung says, letting his fingers linger around Minho’s during the exchange. The cup may be cool to the touch, but the feeling of Jisung’s hands briefly against his is scalding, which can’t be possible because Minho’s already baking in his skin on this hot day. Then Jisung slips his fingers away and leans back, with the audacity to smirk at Minho. 

“Oh,” Minho says dumbly, blinking a slow bewildered blink that betrays his previously confident persona.

Jisung sits back in his chair, leaning down to pet Kkami. Then he breaks character and starts giggling. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I don’t think… I don’t think I’ve tried doing anything like that before,” Jisung admits, and his cheeks finally start to color as the full extent of what he just insinuated catches up to him. 

Minho’s heart skips a beat. “Oh really?” He asks. He places his cup of lemonade on the table, and leans down until this time he’s in Jisung’s face. Jisung looks like he can’t decide between looking away in embarrassment and holding eye contact with Minho. “Am I special, then?” Minho asks, drawing the words out slowly in an almost-whisper, never looking away. 

Jisung finally breaks eye contact, but Minho doesn’t miss the way Jisung’s eyes dart to his lips before he’s staring behind Minho into the distance. 

Jisung swallows, and Minho watches the movement of his throat, neither of them breathing.

“How about I’ll tell you if you come back tomorrow. And maybe I’ll give you a taste of that _sweetness_ too,” Jisung replies in an equally low tone, reaching a hand forward to carefully brush back a strand of Minho’s hair. Then he places his hands on Minho’s shoulders and slowly, gently, pushes him away, like Minho is a work of art that he’s scared to tamper with. Minho lets out a breath, both relieved and not—but he can wait. Jisung’s words are promising, at the very least.

“You enjoy my presence that much?” Minho asks, half-joking, half-not. Jisung shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Alright, then _when_ I come back tomorrow, not if,” Minho says. “So you better hold that promise.” 

He picks his cup back up and sends Jisung another wink. If he almost trips on an uneven slab of concrete as he leaves, neither of them say anything about it—though, Minho swears he hears muffled snickering behind his back. 

Sheesh, Minho thinks, pressing the lemonade-filled cup against his hot cheeks to cool them down once he’s out of sight. He takes a sip of the juice and thinks that he’s just glad nobody has found them flirting in the streetside in broad daylight yet.

\---

“So…” Jisung drawls, feet on the table again. It seems like he hasn’t learned because the table teeters precariously every time Jisung emits a full-body laugh. Today, Kkami is nowhere to be seen—maybe escaping the heat indoors—and Minho’s surprised to see that Jisung has managed to sell a decent amount of lemonade. Then again, he had come a bit later today because his mom had asked him to help out with household chores. Of the three pitchers Jisung has set on the table, two are empty, and the remaining one is only half-full. Minho’s own cup is laid to the side as he’s taken his own seat—Jisung had brought out another folding chair and placed it next to his own when Minho had lingered at the table. 

“What were you doing with your garage door open, anyway?” Jisung finishes. 

“Oh, I practice dancing in the garage. I need to keep the door open for air flow or I’d probably suffocate in there,” Minho answers. 

“You… dance?” Jisung squeaks out, giving Minho a very unsubtle once-over (not for the first time), or as much of it as he can when his own feet are in the way of the view. “Okay, okay. That’s cool.” There’s blood rushing to his cheeks again, but Minho will pass it off as being due to the heat because he’s such a nice person. Besides, Minho’s had his own share of embarrassing moments. 

“Cool?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “Alright. Also…” he grins slyly, eyes twinkling when he’s reminded of a thought. “I’m here again today. And yesterday, didn’t you say…”

“Yes! Yes, I did!” Jisung cuts in, face flushing even more. “And I just knew you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing it up!”

“So?” Minho looks at him, prompting him to continue. 

“So?” Jisung replies evenly. 

“Your answer?” Minho says, levelling Jisung with an unblinking catlike stare that Chan tells him he’s unnervingly good at. 

“Well, I did give you free lemonade,” Jisung says, evading a direct response. 

“And I did return your friend’s dog. And to be fair, I paid for my lemonade both today and yesterday,” Minho points out. 

“Okay. Fair,” Jisung says, rather briskly. Then, like it pains him to say so: “Um, obviously the answer is yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“Oh, so we’re playing this game, then?” Jisung throws up his hands, the table shudders with the movement. Minho has half a mind to push Jisung’s feet off the table before he accidentally creates a disaster, but first:

He leans out of his chair until his face is right in front of Jisung’s. “I’ll ask it again, then. Am I special?” 

“Hah! I changed my mind,” Jisung says, eyes darting everywhere except Minho’s face in a way that Minho thinks is pretty amusing. “No, and get your face away from mine.” 

Minho grins cheekily, standing up. “Ah, so I _was_ special,” he says. “But if nothing else, why don’t you put your feet down from the table, at least.” He gives an annoying poke to the toes of Jisung’s shoes for good measure. 

Jisung gives Minho a sickly sweet smile and makes a show of taking his feet off the table. Then the corners of Jisung’s lips tremble and—no matter how hard he tries to stop it—he eventually breaks into laughter. Minho laughs too, because in the short span of three days he’s learned that Jisung’s laughs are _very_ contagious.

When they’ve calmed down, Jisung shyly asks ( _cute,_ Minho thinks), “What about you, then? How would you answer that?”

Minho pretends to think it over. “I think that I _am_ a pretty special person,” he says, just to tease Jisung.

“That’s not what I—right, you’re perfectly aware of that.” Jisung trails off and gives him a deadpan look. But his mouth twitches, betraying him again. 

“Okay, Special Person. Do you think _I’m_ an equally special person?” Jisung asks, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that should also be comical but somehow looks attractive. 

“If I _had_ to answer,” Minho says, making a fake-disgusted look with his mouth, “Yes, you’re also a special person.”

“Gee, thanks. I could feel the genuine heartfelt emotion,” Jisung says sarcastically. “Well, that’s that, then.” 

“Good,” Minho says. 

“Good,” Jisung echoes. “Okay. I did make a promise, so now I guess I’ll… deliver.” Abruptly, Jisung stands up so he’s eye-level with Minho, leaning forward until he’s inches away, as close as yesterday. It surprises Minho enough that he feels heat blooming in his face, but he doesn’t back away. 

Jisung smiles, smug. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t the only one getting flustered here.”

Minho tries to pretend that a confident Jisung isn’t attractive _,_ and probably fails because blood is still rushing to his face. “So when are you going to actually deliver on that promise?” Minho pushes on coolly, despite the fact that his heart has taken to thumping erratically in his chest in anticipation.

“I’m feeling extra _sweet_ today, so… now,” Jisung murmurs. He leans forward, then stops. “But the side of this stupid table is gonna dig into my thighs if I lean forward even more.” At that, they both laugh, though the sound is tinged with nervousness and spills out of their mouths between bated breaths. Neither is as confident as they look. 

“So don’t mind me,” Jisung continues, anxiously making eye contact with Minho, “I’m just gonna…” 

In one swift movement, Jisung comes around the table and catches a startled Minho mid-turn, putting his hands on Minho’s shoulders and boldly leaning up to kiss him. 

_Oh, wow,_ Minho thinks. He had been so caught up in Jisung’s turbulent eyes—trying to calm Jisung’s nerves (or maybe subconsciously his own) by softly, reassuringly, staring back—that he hadn’t realized Jisung had been moving closer, until he was _right there._

Jisung’s mouth moves against his insistently and Minho quickly responds, bringing a hand around Jisung’s back to press him closer. 

“Wait,” Jisung suddenly breathes out. He pushes Minho into the shade of the nearby ash tree, the trunk partly shielding them from the street. Minho stumbles on a protruding root, but Jisung’s firm grip on his shoulders tightens, keeping Minho upright. “Don’t need to be kissing right in front of the road,” Jisung says, even though not many cars pass by the neighborhood anyway, and then dives back in to press his lips against Minho’s again. 

Jisung tastes like… lemonade. To be fair, Minho probably does too. But Jisung’s right, because the sourness is only faint, and Jisung’s lips are really far softer and sweeter. Jisung licks into Minho’s mouth and Minho feels his knees threatening to go weak. Jisung’s lips are demanding, and Jisung’s hands on his shoulders grounding, but Jisung is also pliant as Minho wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him just a little closer. There’s no room anymore for the slight nervousness both of them had, not when Jisung’s warm lips are parted against his, pressing and pressing and Minho reciprocates with the same fervor.

Unfortunately… it’s summer. And really hot. They’re both sweating, and now even more. Normally Minho would like the heat, but it’s truthfully this is almost unbearable. 

“Sorry,” Minho says, pulling away for air after a few moments and putting some more distance between Jisung. 

Jisung’s face instantly falls. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “Was that too much?”

“No, no,” Minho hastily scrambles to correct the situation because a sad Jisung just looks wrong. “I enjoyed it, a lot,” he says, making sure to earnestly look Jisung in the eyes as he says it, and grins at the way Jisung squirms a little under the eye contact. “But it’s just _way_ too hot,” Minho complains, reaching over to pick up his cup of lemonade on the table. The ice has melted, but at least the juice is cool and refreshing as it goes down his throat. 

“I must admit that you do look pretty _hot_ ,” Jisung accedes, putting emphasis on the double meaning. His smile has returned, and this time, his eyes trail over Minho’s body with no shame. 

“I could say the same,” Minho returns pointedly. Even in just a short time, Jisung’s hair is messed up and his lips are unfairly tempting, swollen and red. “I just wish it wasn’t nearly a hundred degrees out here,” he says, unable to take his own eyes off Jisung.

Jisung flushes. “You could always take off your shirt,” he wiggles his eyebrows and looks extremely goofy in the process.

“Hmm, maybe not in public,” Minho says, laughing with Jisung. 

“Darn, but you still kiss incredibly well,” Jisung says honestly, pouting in a way that makes him look really, really cute—somehow, even though he had been looking incredibly _hot_ just moments before. Not that a cute Jisung isn’t attractive, either. “Don’t tell me I won’t get to experience that ever again.”

And that ignites another fire in Minho. Cute boy suggesting the idea of a next time? 

“Don’t worry,” Minho reassures him. “I’d love to do that again. But maybe… not right now.” He says, using the back of his hand to wipe some of the sweat off his forehead. He plops back down into his folding chair and Jisung mirrors him. They fall into chattering about their daily lives instead, sipping lemonade to combat the heat. (And maybe there are more than a few heart-fluttering smiles shyly shared under the shade, but that’s nobody else’s business.) 

\---

“Lemonade?” Jisung asks as the quarters thump against the side of the tray. 

“Actually, I was wondering if I could also get a kiss with it?” Minho asks, deviously. He’s been coming to the stand every day for a week now, but neither of them have really brought up kissing again, especially as the heat’s just been relentless. Today, though, there’s a slight breeze to the air and some clouds in the sky, making the temperature much more bearable. 

Jisung somehow still keeps a neutral expression, even though Minho catches the way his eyes widen ever-so-slightly at Minho’s words. “So you want the kiss for free?”

Minho makes a show of emptying his pockets. “I only brought four quarters for the lemonade.”

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” Jisung says, shifting to an announcer-type voice that never fails to make Minho laugh. “One lemonade coming right up, and you can also get a kiss if you tell me something else about yourself in return.” 

“Ah, but I already told you a lot,” Minho says. It’s true. In the past few days, whenever Minho visited the stand they had ended up just talking about pretty much anything under the sun. Minho has learned that Jisung even knows Chan, and that he’s part of Chan’s music group at school, where they write lyrics and compose songs. Minho has also learned that Jisung’s going to be a junior next year, whereas Minho’ll be going into senior year alongside Chan. 

Jisung won’t shut up about wanting to see Minho’s dancing though, especially when he learned Minho was preparing something for a show at the end of summer. 

“How about I modify the deal, then. A kiss in exchange for a preview of your dance routine?” Jisung asks, calmly resting his chin on a hand to look up at Minho and impatiently drumming his fingers against the table. 

“Oh, you’re pushing it, Jisung,” Minho says. Jisung just continues looking at him unfazed like that, like he knows Minho’s going to cave and do it anyway, and—damn—he’s right. Minho is stingy, though, so he draws in a breath and reveals no more than five seconds of his routine before coming back to the table, not missing the way Jisung’s eyes follow his every movement.

“There,” he says. “If you want more then come to the show in two weeks.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says, demeanor flipping on end. “Lemonade—” he pushes the cup to Minho’s side of the table. “And a kiss—” he reaches as far over the table he can and plants the chastest kiss to Minho’s lips, before retreating back. “Short kiss for a short preview,” Jisung says, by way of explanation. “Also the table was digging into me again.” Jisung waves a dismissive hand like he can’t do anything about it, like he doesn’t care to do anything about it. 

Minho narrows his eyes at Jisung, though he’s mostly just amused. But Jisung has also left his lips tingling, and he can’t help but prod. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t also want more.”

“I don’t see me wanting anything,” Jisung says, innocently and definitely aware. “Do you see me wanting anything?”

Minho decides _fuck it_ and walks to Jisung’s side of the table in two strides, swooping forward until he can see Jisung’s eyes and lips up close, grinning in the way Jisungs’s eyes flutter in surprise. “What about now?” Minho asks, a saccharine smile on his face. He’s a bit bashful of his actions, too, but he can take it, if it means seeing Jisung right in front of him. 

Jisung has no verbal response for that, his eyebrows furrowing and fingers tapping his chin as if he’s thinking about making a hard decision. Minho almost bursts into laughter at the way Jisung never fails to put up a silly facade, even when he sees how Jisung’s glimmering eyes have already revealed the decision for him. 

Sure enough, Minho is pulled into Jisung’s lap—Minho briefly worries whether or not the folding chair will hold, but it surprisingly doesn’t wobble as easily as the plastic table—and Jisung surges forward, locking Minho’s lips in his in lieu of a verbal reply.

 _Sweet victory,_ Minho thinks. Truly sweet, again, because Jisung’s lips are always delicious.

“You convinced me, I think I’m gonna have to request for some extra sugar every time I get some of your lemonade,” Minho breathes. Jisung giggles adorably, melting into him, and Minho swallows the sound of his laughter up as Jisung’s lips part underneath his. 

They kiss slowly, languidly, matching the pace of lazy summer afternoons together, and Minho knows this is only the start of a summer that he won’t forget—and maybe also more summers to come. Minho’s pretty sure that he’s never fit against someone as well as Jisung, and that thought doesn’t just pertain to kissing. Minho feels like he could have countless more conversations with Jisung, sitting in the shade and passing the time, and… petting Kkami, because now there’s something furry brushing against his leg and he briefly pulls away from Jisung to run his fingers through the dog’s fur. Then they (nicely) shoo Kkami away before turning back to each other, only to both break into broad, knowing smiles. 

“I was just thinking… were you also thanking Kkami in your head?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah.” Jisung reads his thoughts perfectly and Minho can’t stop grinning, not that he wants to anyway. “I already did before, but I can’t thank him enough for walking into my garage. He’s a true matchmaker,” Minho supplies. 

Jisung laughs one of those precious full-body laughs, causing Minho to shake with him as he’s seated on Jisung’s lap. The sound is beautiful, Minho thinks. This is beautiful.

  
  


Because the two of them really do just go well together, like sweet sugar mixed into a cup of fresh lemonade.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> lol uh... I guess I have a thing for overly sweet/cheesy metaphors and lazy summers. Anyway, thank you for reading—I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
